America and the World 1981 || Alarm Bells in the West

Alarm Bells in the WestAuthor(s): Flora LewisSource: Foreign Affairs, Vol. 60, No. 3, America and the World 1981 (1981), pp. 551-572Published by: Council on Foreign RelationsStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20041159 .

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Flora Lewis

E ALARM BELLS IN THE WEST

uropean leaders were pleased to start 1981 with a new American President and looked forward to steadier Atlantic rela tions rather than to a bumpy, unpredictable course with Jimmy

Carter. Not that they agreed more with Ronald Reagan; they knew very little about him. But they had come to dislike and disdain Mr. Carter so much that it was assumed a

change must

be for the better, and Mr. Reagan's general projection of a newly vigorous, confident, purposeful America, after a disheartening decade, was most welcome.

By late in the year, however, the common theme on both sides of the political spectrum, and on both sides of the Atlantic, was that the Alliance had never been so gravely troubled and so

uncertainly led. The tone of complaint was no longer familiar

grumbles about disarray or lack of consultation, the cyclical quarrels and reconciliations which have been characteristic of the unusual bonds between Western Europe and the United States for nearly two generations. The direction was only down. Some

people have even begun to question the value of a partnership established to correct the failures of the 1930s by establishing a

joint security system in a world so enormously changed. The unthinkable?a rupture?was being thought.

As the gloom deepened, the usual calls for reviews of procedures, new mechanisms to strengthen policy planning and crisis man

agement, faded away. It was as though people sensed there was

too much danger in any kind of tinkering lest something collapse. Europe as a whole was called "semi-Gaullist," in the sense that

President Charles de Gaulle sought to silhouette France against the United States. But those who looked back and judged that de

Gaulle's maneuvers to identify France as a power between the

United States and the Soviet Union were not only right but

prophetic forgot how much he had done to prevent the consoli dation of Europe. There still wasn't any European "pillar" to fit President Kennedy's image of a more equal Atlantic relationship, and less prospect than ever of a united European defense to reduce

dependence on America's protection.

And, for much of the year, there was a discomfiting new

Flora Lewis writes the column "Foreign Affairs" for The New York Times.



552 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

vacuum. Soviet-American relations seemed to have vanished.

There was neither confrontation nor exchange. There was rhetoric, at first conciliatory from President Leonid Brezhnev seeking a

meeting with Mr. Reagan, then increasingly harsh as the year wore on. The U.S. policy toward Moscow was unclear and perhaps unsettled. There was no agenda, except a decision in the fall to start talks on intermediate-range Euromissiles at the end of No

vember. Later, it was announced that the U.S. and Soviet Foreign Ministers would meet in January to see about launching new talks

on long-range strategic weapons; salt ii had never been ratified

and was losing relevance with time. The result would be crucial, since both sides had come to expect that no useful agreement could be hoped for on intermediate-range weapons except within the framework of limitations on the biggest missiles. Any dividing line between the two areas was necessarily arbitrary, controversial,

and, in the end, probably unworkable, given the French and British nuclear arsenals. But beyond these first steps, there were no clear sign posts on what kind of East-West relations Washing ton was seeking, what it expected from the U.S.S.R. beyond not

taking advantage of weak spots on the earth's political crust.

There was no visible plan for developing new relations with

Moscow, only denunciation of the way things had been going. Some Administration members, though it was not known

whether they were expressing their own views or reflecting consid

ered policy, told Europeans privately that the vacuum was delib erate. Their thesis was that nothing could be achieved with the

aging Brezhnev regime, and that nothing should be attempted for several years until the U.S. rearmament program had produced

enough added force to back up Washington's words. Then, they maintained, some future Soviet regime might see that it must

change its ways to get on in the world and shift attention to its frozen home front.

Late in the year, Secretary of State Alexander M. Haig, Jr. told a congressional committee that the United States sought "restraint and reciprocity" from Moscow. That was the first sign that

Washington was beginning to think of proceeding with Soviet American relations. But it wasn't spelled out and there were no

specific areas outlined as possible subjects on which future diplo matic exchanges might be engaged.

Then suddenly, on November 18, President Reagan reversed the barometer. After a period of seemingly haphazard and some

times contradictory U.S. public statements about the possibility of a limited nuclear war in Europe and whether there were plans



ALARM BELLS IN THE WEST 553

for an atomic "demonstration blast" should war start, accompa nied by a burgeoning European peace movement with mammoth demonstrations in several countries, Mr. Reagan made his first

major foreign policy speech. He stressed America's dedication to

peace and her desire for effective arms control. It was a few days before Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev was to visit Bonn and little more than a week before the opening of the Soviet-American talks

in Geneva on intermediate-range arms in Europe. Mr. Reagan

announced that the United States would seek removal of all such land-based weapons, the "zero-option" which West German

Chancellor Helmut Schmidt had been urging as the negotiated alternative to deployment of 572 new U.S. missiles in Western

Europe capable of reaching the Soviet Union. Echoes of continuing argument within the American Adminis

tration left many in doubt whether this was just a speech, America

entering the propaganda war as some called it, and an all-or

nothing offer meant to be rejected; or whether it was a policy envisaging renewal of dialogue with Moscow on a broad range of issues looking toward restarting d?tente, nato chose to take Mr.

Reagan at his word and was cheered. A speech can force creation of policy, even if it does not represent the climax of a period of

thoughtful study and conclusion enriched with specific plans. In any case, the speech and the offer did reflect Washington's

acknowledgment of European distress at the way things had been

drifting. Europeans simply could not accept the idea of just sitting out a few years with their backs turned to the Soviet Union. Public opinion had been putting rapidly mounting pressure on the leaders. The apparent policy freeze in Washington had added

substantially to the strains in U.S.-European relations.

On December 13, the military coup in Poland added a new element. The West had been watching for so long to see whether or not there would be a direct takeover by the Red Army that it was unprepared to react to the use of Polish force against Poles. At first, many wished to believe assurances from the head of the new military junta, General Wojciech Jaruzelski, that he was only curbing extremists and that the process of "renewal" would continue in partnership with the Solidarity union as soon as "normalization" was achieved. Even the first Polish Pope, John Paul II, warned, above all, against the shedding of more Polish blood. Washington quickly understood the essential Soviet role in the decision to impose a strict order wiping out liberties won in 17

months of struggle in Poland. As more and more bits of informa tion trickled West, the European governments also came to realize



554 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

that the Polish attempt to liberalize communist society had been

quashed. It was not easy to reach a joint Western decision on what to do about it, but the shock to public opinion brought a sharp change in the Western climate. Once again, the basic East-West differences in society and the basic attitudes common to the West and underlying its alliance were clearly visible. The pendulum shifted.

How long it would last and how suppression of the Polish workers would affect relations in the longer term depended on volatile developments. Nonetheless, the strains between Europe and America over the meaning and hopes of East-West d?tente

were not simply washed away. Of course, they had not developed in a single year. Current perceptions of divergence on the core

issue of security and survival tend to set the Soviet invasion of

Afghanistan in late 1979 as the marker. But there was a deeper tension. For the first time, the meaning of nuclear parity was

sinking in. The argument about the possibility of a limited nuclear war in Europe revealed a basic, historic change in the world's

strategic situation. Twice, the United States had watched war

rage in Europe and finally decided to intervene. The North Atlantic Treaty was signed to settle that painful question before hand. A European war would also be America's war, and that

certainty had prevented fighting in Europe since 1945. Nuclear

parity and modern missiles created a new question. Would an

American war necessarily also be Europe's war, perhaps limited to Europe's soil?

Sober heads were convinced that the underlying reason for the Atlantic relationship had not changed despite a certain sense of

Europe as a buffer between two global powers. Neither the United States nor Western Europe would be safe in a world where one

couldn't rely on the other. They do share political and social values which they want to preserve and, despite malicious gibes, their systems permit cooperation and abhor domination. Though some people were thinking about the possibility of rupture, the

very thought sent chills of dread in the hearts of leaders and the

responsible public. The necessity of alliance and partnership remains.

ii

If the atmosphere had so deteriorated, however, it was because these foundations found little expression during most of the year.

The public discourse was focused on fears and threats. In Europe, the Reagan Administration's assertions of stoutheartedness and its




images of danger to justify a vast but not clearly coherent military program seemed like bravura, the kind that could bumble into disaster. More missiles of all kinds, weapons as the tender of

diplomacy, reluctance to engage the adversary in earnest negoti

ation, reverberated as an increased risk of war. That provoked the

upsurge in neutralist and pacifist sentiment and a degree of anti Americanism. The plan to deploy cruise and Pershing II missiles

in Europe to counter Soviet SS-20s became the magnetic pole to attract and organize an outpouring of these feelings, with huge demonstrations in West Germany, Holland, Italy, Britain. The

U.S. leadership was surprised and at first contemptuous. It had

expected warm support from Europe for its new boldness; its concentration on communism as the source of all the world's evil

led it to ascribe the reaction to outside agitation and a wobbly resolve. Washington answered with hints of a new "Mans

fieldism," a threat to withdraw U.S. troops from Europe and by implication to leave the Europeans to fend for themselves.

Throughout the year, Administration officials, legislators and American commentators had been warning that if the American

public perceived a lack of European interest in joint defense or too much divergence in judging and sharing the tasks of the

Alliance, American public opinion would lose patience with sup porting 300,000 men in Europe, mostly in the front line of possible attack. Sometimes this was expressed as a dangerous possibility which European leaders should help to avert. Sometimes, it sounded almost like a threat. On the one side neutralism, on the other unilateralism or even isolationism: the retorts provoked each

other, never at the highest level but insistent enough to aggravate irritabilities.

The deepening recession was part of the darkening mood. A world depression had led to World War II. There is no logical link now between sagging economies and a threat to peace, but the unavowed memory was ominous. In any case, economic

troubles turn countries inward and enhance nationalist tendencies

which complicate foreign relations. There was no particular quar

rel with President Reagan's economic program at first. Whether

they believed in his methods or not, the Europeans hoped for a

U.S. recovery to ease their own difficulties. But when Reagan's economics produced exorbitant interest rates, they were affected and complained bitterly. To fight inflation at home, the Reagan

Administration severely curtailed the supply of credit, driving up its price. This attracted a flow of money from abroad to take

advantage of high U.S. interest rates and forced a relative deval



556 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

uation of European currencies as the dollar floated upward. Europeans had complained about President Carter's "benign neglect" of the dollar, but President Reagan's over-muscular dollar hurt even more and they began to talk of a "third oil

shock," the added cost of paying fuel bills in expensive dollars.

Then, toward the end of the year when it became increasingly evident that Reaganomics wasn't going to deliver renewed pros

perity soon?the social cost for Americans had never been a

European concern?the worries grew. The dollar, the American economy, has been an immediate

European problem since World War II. In the 1950s, it was said that "when the U.S. economy sneezes, Europe catches pneu

monia." Successive U.S. governments have insisted on their sov

ereign right to run the economy as they think best. But it adds to

Europe's sense of impotence, and resentment, when changes of

policy it cannot influence aggravate its own less than satisfying attempts at economic management. This has been particularly true since the breakdown of the Bretton Woods system in 1971 and the volatility it introduced in currencies. At the end of World

War II when the dollar reigned alone, the United States and its friends had established an international monetary system intended to prevent the rival devaluations, blockages and uncertainties

which had deepened the Great Depression in the 1930s and had been factors leading to war. It was based on full convertibility of the dollar firmly pegged to gold at $35 an ounce. Inflation, fueled

by the American refusal to take account of the economic drain of the Vietnam War, and Europe's economic revival and trade, led to continuing U.S. balance-of-payments deficits. President Nixon loosened and then cut the dollar's tie to gold, allowing it to move

with the market's forces and permitting broad fluctuations in

exchange rates. From time to time, pleas were advanced for

establishment of a new, more orderly and predictable system. But it has never been possible to agree on more than temporary

patchwork. On top of all this, there was the irritating spectacle of public

backbiting, feuding and contradictions in Washington. Not that the same things do not happen in other capitals, but the size of the issues was so much greater. When American Cabinet members toss brickbats at each other, they're talking about war and peace. President Reagan had met all the major European leaders by the end of the year and the personal chemistry was fine, but he had

yet to cross the Atlantic. There had been none of the abrasion that marked President Carter's encounters. But nothing much




came of the meetings either. Mr. Reagan listened, smiled a lot,

repeated his message on the advantages of private enterprise and

his determination not to be pushed around by Russians, and went his own way, apparently unmoved. Gradually, Europeans

won

dered what role he actually played in his Administration, indeed, whether he was even running his own government.

The result of all this was a mounting sense that the Western world was running out of control, that the levers were discon

nected. That queasy feeling was more responsible for the strains between Europe and the United States than any decision or

pronouncement. It made people feel that they must do something to catch hold or get out of the way. But they didn't know quite

what. The trouble was that the European countries were in no

better control, together or, many of them, domestically. And there were no international leaders admired and trusted beyond their borders as giants able to bear the woeful world and to guide it.

The sense of community was draining out of the European Economic Community. It was surviving, but, as one ardently

supportive senior diplomat observed, its primary impact had become its "negative value," that is, as a bulwark against pressures for even greater protectionism and for national advantage among the member states. For market reasons, the feared deadline when

financial resources and budget demands would produce an abso lute deficit did not arrive in 1980. But no one doubted that the crisis would soon come, and nothing was being done to avert it.

The two major issues were the Common Agricultural Policy, now

generally admitted to be an unmanageable deformation of eco nomic sense, and financial obligations which have grossly over burdened West Germany and Britain without the balancing sense of redistribution to overall communal advantage which makes such inequities tolerable in a federal system. Britain's The Economist summed up the situation after the year's last Common Market

summit failed to budge any of the disputes. Its cover showed Britain's Thatcher, West Germany's Schmidt and France's Mit terrand holding their heads in various gestures of distress under the title, "Why Did We Ever Invent the EEC?"

The three largest members were following domestic economic and social policies bound to widen the gaps. At one extreme, Britain stuck to controlling the money supply and deflation while

unemployment rose to postwar records. At the other, France

focused on employment and social change, sharply raising govern ment spending and leaning on business to break what its socialist

theoreticians called the "the power of money" in society. France's



558 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

future interest in the Community, these ideologists said, depended on whether it can be converted into a "social space" with a dominant concern for workers' rights and welfare, or would remain

what they consider a protectorate of multinational capital. West

Germany was somewhere in between, no longer the model of

economic success, moderately in trouble, trying moderate solu

tions, but scarcely less politically exacerbated. Meanwhile, some smaller countries added pique to the gloom. Greece's new Socialist

Premier Andreas Papandreou seemed intent on taking over the

familiar role of spoiler, once played in turn by France and Britain, threatening

a referendum on continuing membership but appar

ently seeking leverage to extract more benefits. France maintained its opposition to early membership for Spain, mainly to keep out

competitive foodstuffs, and sharpened the divisive effect by offer

ing extra support for Portugal to join ahead of Spain. Most

governments were weak, or almost nonexistent (Belgium and

Denmark, for example), more than ever concerned with local

troubles at the expense of a broader vision.

in

The most secure European leader turned out to be one of the

newest, France's Fran?ois Mitterrand. With his election on May 10, the Fifth Republic turned out Charles de Gaulle's heirs and installed the Left opposition for the first time. New parliamentary elections gave Mitterrand's Socialists a solid majority. He took his fractious Communist allies into the government, but was not

dependent on them. With the next legislative election not due until 1986, and the presidential election scheduled for 1988, the French government was free of political risk.

Nonetheless, the initial euphoria of change and proof that the constitution could survive a transfer of power gave way to unease

as France waited to see what kind of socialism the new rulers had in mind. The promised quick reversal of economic decline did not

materialize. Both unemployment and inflation continued to grow. Some of Mr. Mitterrand's associates began to blame the failure of their formulas on "sabotage" by "the power of money," the business community which had largely supported and benefited from previous governments. They spoke alarmingly of the "ancien

regime" as though they really intended to overturn society ab

ruptly and irreversibly. The climate did nothing to encourage investment in the private sector, and that reticence brought threats

of further radicalization. The public sector, enlarged by nation alization of the 11 biggest firms and all remaining private banks,




did not revive a sense that good times were on the way.

Although there was nothing like the open display of dispute that characterized Washington, there was a tug-of-war between

the theorists of socialism and the pragmatists on Mr. Mitterrand's assorted team. That added to uncertainties. Conflicting economic

policies frayed the close partnership with West Germany, and there was no replacement by some other special intimacy in

Europe. Despite ideological differences, a tougher French position toward the Soviets warmed relations with America on East-West issues. But that was somewhat offset by the clash between Wash

ington and Paris on North-South problems, with the French

advancing their championship of the Third World, including elements such as the Salvadoran insurgents whom the Reagan

Administration considered Soviet-backed proxies. Altogether, the

stability of her government did not translate into an expectation of enhanced solidity for France.

In West Germany, prospects for political smooth sailing after Chancellor Helmut Schmidt's handy reelection in 1980 drained away rapidly and his hold on power came to look fragile. About a third of his Social Democratic Party (spd) moved well to his left, and part of the Free Democratic Party, his minor but essential coalition partners, began to grumble and think of switching sides.

A new mood, impossible to measure and hard to define, was

swelling in the Federal Republic. Some called it left-wing nation alism, others called it anti-politics, the search for an "alternative," which was the name chosen by a group which did surprisingly well in West Berlin elections and took enough votes from the Socialists to install a Christian Democratic mayor in that old spd

stronghold. Without a change of leadership, West Germany was also changing climate. A book by Peter Bender, called The Euro

peanization of Europe, became the bible of the discontent. Its advo cates said it meant that people in both Eastern and Western

Europe want to get rid of their superpowers and make their own new way of life. The churches, the Left, the environmentalists, and the simply uneasy contributed to a fuzzy movement without a program but with a conviction that something was profoundly

wrong and something should be done about it. Their language was reminiscent of the counterculture movement of 1968, and

they provoked some of the same reaction from stolid burghers. But the lines were vague and the direction unclear.

In this atmosphere, but not essentially because of it, Chancellor Schmidt incarnated West Germany's new role as a major political as well as economic power. That is likely to be the most important



560 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

and long-range European development of the year with effects far

beyond the horizon. The milestone was Mr. Brezhnev's visit to Bonn. Mr. Schmidt cast himself as "interpreter" between Moscow and Washington, to help the two superpowers renew a dialogue and get back to the effort of controlling arms. Mr. Brezhnev called

West Germany "a partner for peace" and spoke of common

sufferings in World War II without a hint of the old Russian fear and suspicion of Germans. Mr. Schmidt made clear that although he was eager for renewal of general d?tente, there could be no

question about West Germany's firm anchorage in nato and its

special ties with the United States. Still, the striking advance of West German-Soviet reconciliation and the unknown implications

for West German-East German relations echoed distant rumblings which might or might not signal an earthquake in Europe's political terrain well after both leaders have gone from the scene. The partition of Germany was fixed in the 1975 Helsinki accord, but even the stars move.

The apparent paradox of Mr. Schmidt's attempt to preempt the political stage, while his very hold on power was being undermined by a stridently hostile left-wing faction of his spd and a swelling peace movement, did not really change the meaning of

Germany's evolution. The opposition Christian Democrats are more solidly pro-NATO, but in power they would face an even

stronger critique of their foreign policy and perhaps more temp tation to indulge the nationalist sentiments of much of the discon tent. The CDU has shown no real unhappiness with the new

German-Soviet relationship, and should not be expected to reverse

the underlying trend. The problem of national identity and significance in the world

of powers remains profound for West Germans, and probably for East Germans, too, though they have little chance for self-expres sion. Even Mr. Schmidt's harshest critics welcome the fact that

when "he talks to the big ones of the world, it makes us somebody again." France has begun to feel uneasy, and that must be read as

the basic purpose of her attempt to revive the moribund Western

European Union as a forum in which to discuss "European defense

solidarity." This time, however, it is not to draw Germany away from its American ties but rather to anchor it more firmly. As the

conservative commentator Alfred Fabre-Luce said in December, France has shifted from fear of German revanchism to fear of

German neutralism.

Britain, too, passed a milestone on an uncertain road. Prime

Minister Margaret Thatcher's version of monetarism and old-style




conservative economics, launched two years ahead of Mr.

Reagan's economic program, was also well ahead with bad results.

Industrial production was down to the level of 1975, unemploy ment continued rising at 11.4 percent in November compared to 8.4 percent in 1980, and the advertised beginning of recovery was

yet to be seen. The Tories were restive, the public impatient with what no longer looked like a new idea worth a try. The opposition Labour Party mirrored the move toward ideological fundamen talism. The Labour Party conference rejected the leadership bid of moderate Denis Healey in favor of the Left's candidate, Michael Foot. The choice reflected the growing power of the constituency apparatus, dominated by the ideological Left and ever more assertive in its demand for controls, over the traditional leadership of Labour's parliamentary bloc with its greater sensitivity to the broad sweep of public sentiment. Even Mr. Foot, recognizing the electorate's distaste for so much radicalism, later moved away from the most adamant leftists and managed to block Anthony Benn's attempt to become Deputy Leader.

The widening gap between Right and Left, in the homeland of restraint and civility, made way for a new Social Democratic

Party. Its leaders, breakaways from Labour, made an alliance with the tattered Liberals in the belief that the electorate was

predominantly Center-Left. The response in by-elections was phe nomenal, and the British political landscape was thoroughly jarred. Compared to France and Germany, that created a modest

uncertainty which had no international repercussions. But, even

tually, it could force changed assumptions about Britain's sturdy support for current U.S. policies and its ineffective role in the

European Community, which Mrs. Thatcher seemed to see as a

greedy gang to be held at bay. The three parties offered three

truly divergent choices for Britain, both domestically and inter

nationally. But the rise of the newborn Social Democrats presented at least

the chance of a moderate solution in a few years. The Social

Democrats, whose Shirley Williams won triumphantly in the

Crosby suburb of Liverpool, showing the new party could draw from Tory voters as effectively as from Labourites, stood firmly for the Common Market and nato. Their goal of becoming the

swing force with their Liberal allies in the next general election, preventing either a Conservative or Labour majority, no longer seemed implausible. Both traditional parties were bound to be

deeply affected, though neither was yet able to absorb the conclu sions and translate them into changed positions. Mrs. Thatcher



562 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

has until early 1984 to call elections. But it seemed unlikely that either major party could sufficiently change by then to squelch the new party's threat.

IV

Other countries in northern Europe, in their cooler way, were

equally bedeviled in kicking the shins of those in power. Belgium was the worst case, with Europe's highest unemployment (12

percent), an ominously mounting debt, and still almost total

political paralysis from its language feud. No longer were Belgium or the other small countries providing the brilliant spokesmen free to voice the larger concerns of Europe from a limited but sturdy

podium. Domestic squabbles kept rending coalitions, and internal

affairs devoured all energies. The Netherlands consumed governments like herrings, though

the diagnosis of "Hollanditis" did give it some international

impact. That referred not so much to instability of leadership as

to protest movements in the name of moralizing the country and

the world. Two neutralist slogans, quoted by veteran diplomat and businessman Ernst van der Beugel, were so similar to prewar

Dutch themes that he wondered whether Holland's participation in the Alliance was just one generation's aberration from an old

tradition. "I fear the worst," he said in a speech. Another slogan was unique, and uniquely armored against logic. But it echoed

among West Germans usually resistant to the pleasure of paradox. It called for "neutralization within nato," and whatever that

meant was meant seriously. Holland's natural gas kept the econ

omy afloat, the currency strong, and inflation low. But the country

is totally dependent on trade (89 percent of gross national product compared to 43 percent in Germany, 31 percent in France and 16

percent in the United States). Huge social expenditures are coming to be recognized as substantially beyond its productive means.

Italy remained engulfed in its own cheerful disorder, with

almost no impact on larger European or Atlantic affairs. Even the

Euromissile issue provoked relatively little fuss, although accep tance of cruise missiles to be based in Sicily was an important

matter for the Alliance. West Germany's condition for deployment from the start, apart from an effort at negotiations,

was that at

least one other continental country serve as a base. Belgium and

Holland remained uncertain candidates, so Italy could be decisive.

But international affairs attracted little attention there and the

rest of Europe paid little attention to Italy, a grave concern just a few years ago when its society seemed to be disintegrating.

For the first time since the war, a premier who was not a




Christian Democrat took office. He was the small Republican Party's Giovanni Spadolini, an amiable man who made the

breakthrough seem painless and therefore not a drastic change. There were still no clear signs whether the new coalition heralded a more durable equilibrium in place of the now traditional musical chairs system of changing governments, whether the Christian

Democrats would be able to use a period of diminished responsi bility to achieve their long promised internal renewal, whether Italian politics were really evolving or continuing their rhythm of

minor variations on a single theme.

Spain had a far more dramatic and worrisome year. An at

temp:ed putsch on February 23 explosively disclosed the intensity of nostalgia among parts of the army and the Franco loyalists in business and high society. It failed because of prompt and clear action by King Juan Carlos, whose determination to maintain democratic structures was evidently underestimated by the Right. (His Queen, Sofia, is the sister of ex-King Constantine of Greece

and whether his conviction stemmed from character or from the

negative example of how his brother-in-law lost a throne was

problematical. It was probably both.) His guidance eased but by no means dispelled the difficulties Spain was having in establish

ing the habit of democracy, and Spaniards themselves did not take the future of the regime for certain. Terrorism, aimed largely at the army and the police, and its impulse, regionalism, which the military considered a threat to national unity, were the main reasons advanced for their challenges to the new system. But

underneath, there was a tangible resistance by the old elite and its beneficiaries to change and liberalism, for them equivalent to disorder.

The Union of the Democratic Center, an amalgam put together for the first parliamentary elections in 1977, remained in power

with a new Premier, Leopoldo Calvo Sotelo, but it was crumbling. Political tolerance and cooperation are not easy to install at any time, and a period of recession adds obstacles. The Spanish conservatives were losing their cohesion. But so were the Com

munists, who won only nine percent in their national debut, and

they, too, had a series of internal quarrels threatening a split. Common expectation was that the Socialists will come to power in the next election, a prospect that the military traditionalists

find "unacceptable."

Repeated plots were bruited about to prevent any such thing. Socialist leader Felipe Gonzalez, young and handsomely reassur

ing, is a confirmed social-democrat but none could be sure how his untried party would manage to govern. He had told some



564 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

people that he felt obliged to oppose Spain's entry into nato, but would be glad enough to have the issue out of the way before

assuming responsibility. Gradually, however, his public opposition stiffened, and he said the Socialists would resubmit any ratified decision to a popular referendum when they take charge.

The major importance of Spain's joining the Atlantic Alliance, incomplete but on the way at the end of the year, was more

domestic than international. The Spanish-American treaty al

ready provided the military requirements in terms of Europe's defense needs. But the Spanish army has had little to do beyond dominating politics since the Civil War, and it was adjusting poorly to the loss of the old role without acquiring a new one.

Absorption in Alliance machinery, new tasks justifying new or

ganization and promotion lists, could help it move into the more normal position of a defense establishment under civilian controls, and everyday involvement of its officers with allies who take

democracy for granted could shift attitudes. It was important for Western Europe, too, that Spain's emergence from its long isola

tion prove stable and politically sympathetic. The effect of Spain's civil war and its' dictatorship had not been forgotten.

The other Spanish effort to rejoin the Continent, membership in the European Economic Community, was not going well. Its fruits and vegetables

were seen as devastating potential competi tion in France and indirectly in Italy. Common Market political support for the new Spain was not strong enough to override

national economic lobbies and extend an early welcome to Mad

rid, a source of resentment on the peninsula since stalling also

affected Portugal. Still, though threats to stability were greater than anywhere in

Europe, Spain deserved a judgment of cautious optimism. Despite the stereotype of hot blood and volatility, its people had calmly gone a long way in a short time along the most difficult road for

any society?establishment of orderly freedom after revolution, war and dictatorship. Though participants in the Civil War were

dying out, there is such a thing as social memory and social education to the folly of fratricide. The loyalty of the King to the

parliamentary regime and the steadfast refusal of the great ma

jority of people to be diverted from a democratic goal remained dominant.

The position of Greece in Europe was almost the obverse of

Spain's. It did join the European Community, and its military ties with nato were reestablished after a long sulk to protest what

Athens considered better treatment of Turkey. Then, in the fall,




the conservative government established after military rule had

collapsed in 1974 was ousted by Andreas Papandreou's Socialists. The election was as spectacular as Mr. Mitterrand's in France

and posed even more questions. Premier Papandreou withheld his most far-reaching campaign threats on taking office. But he announced that the United States would be required to remove its nuclear weapons from Greek territory, a unilateral step aimed

at establishing a future Balkan nuclear-free zone; negotiations would be sought for the removal of U.S. bases; the new military agreement with nato would be reviewed; and the Common

Market would be asked to give Greece a special, preferential status.

As though to demonstrate that Greece had no intention of

playing the docile newcomer to the Community, Mr. Papandreou imposed a veto on the plan for the Ten to endorse the dispatch of

British, French, Italian and Dutch troops for the multinational force to separate Israel and Egypt in the Sinai. There were even

greater problems involving the force, primarily between Britain and Israel, and Greece couldn't veto national decisions; but Athens' recognition of the Palestine Liberation Organization

(plo), and its readiness to challenge a political move by its nine

European partners, added to the signs of an activist foreign policy by the new Greek government.

Mr. Papandreou went a step further at the nato Defense

Minister's Council (he is also Defense Minister) and, for the first time in Alliance history, prevented the issuing of a communiqu? by demanding an expression of guarantees for Greece that was

unacceptable to Turkey. The U.S. Secretaries of State and Defense

held meetings with him, which he called "sympathetic," but they obviously made no promises and nobody knew how far Mr.

Papandreou's ploy was serious threat and how much was bluff.

To what extent the Greek government was now going to be anti-American was a matter of how to measure, but it was clearly

going to be anti-Turk. Nationalism had been as important in the

campaign as socialism. One reason given by Mr. Papandreou for his dissatisfaction with nato was that it failed to guarantee Greece's border with Turkey, presumably including disputed Aegean air and sea space. The "southern flank," as Greece and

Turkey are designated in nato jargon, was in for more trouble.

Turkey was relatively quiet, compared to the murderous period of gang warfare between Left and Right which had brought the

military to depose civilian government once again. But the prom ised return of power to the politicians kept receding. The Generals



566 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

were finding that trying to run a government as well as an army accumulated the same intransigent problems which had frustrated them before. Violence was repressed, but Turkey's troubles were

no nearer solution. Moreover, West European opinion was stirring

against prolonged military rule, and warnings multiplied that

apparently unequivocal U.S. support for the junta was provoking the same kind of anti-American resentment within Turkey as

support for the Colonels had produced during their seven-year reign in Greece.

But Washington was determined to think strategically, brushing aside issues of democracy and political prisoners. That showed in the establishment of a new U.S.-Turkish joint defense board and a request for a large increase in military aid to Turkey in current and future U.S. budgets. It was the familiar dilemma, most

dramatically exposed in Iran in recent years, between current U.S.

global concerns and longer term appreciation of popular feelings. Turkish journalists returning from the United States told Swedish Social Democrat Pierre Schori, with evident disgust, that Ameri cans argued to them, "In Europe, your religion is democracy.

Ours is stability." Because of continued turmoil in Iran and lack of progress in resolving Middle East tensions, Turkey's strategic importance had been much enhanced. But that acknowledgment from Washington could in no way guarantee stability, and its

approach could actually help undermine it.

Altogether, the pattern of political change showed that neither

the "red tide" proclaimed in the mid-1970s, nor the conservative tide announced a few years later, had been the real trend. Rather,

it was the "outs" overtaking the "ins," even in Scandinavia with

its habit of generations of social democracy. It has been a time of

rejection, of fitful trial and error, of waning confidence both in

familiar national authority and in the mighty directors of the

world. Uncertainties were pronounced with vehemence, but that

made them no more steadying. The European Community continued to hover like a lightning

bug, real, visible, but unable to set a direction. Jean Monnet's initial idea that the small countries would work together to offset

divisive national demands of the larger ones wasn't working. To

the extent they looked to Europe, each sought its own specific advantage. Lowered expenditures postponed the absolute budget crisis, but none of the urgent reforms was made and the next

foreign ministers' meeting, the next summit, was adjured to tackle

them. The directly elected European Parliament, expected to

provide fresh and more popular momentum, turned out to be no

better at mobilizing energies than its predecessor. The cry of




impending disaster has been heard too often to make it credible that the Community is really going to fall apart. But neither is it

moving in a way that could elicit hope and enthusiasm, so that

"Europe" cannot satisfy the yearning for a reassurance which is

missing on both the lesser and the grander scale. It is true that governments in the Community further developed

the custom of political consultation and a search for consensus in

foreign policy. That is often noted as a countersign to the massive evidence of immobilism in its own affair of "building Europe." Its

members have achieved a certain coherence which gives shape and weight to their views in the rest of the world. But this applies only to external issues, usually declaratory, such as a United

Nations vote or a patently sterile "initiative" telling the Middle East what it ought to do to resolve its problems. The new Commission President, Gaston Thorn, derided the idea that the

Community can generate effectiveness by agreeing on statements

to be made to the outside world and avoiding decisions.

v

Eastern Europe looked no more firmly established in its mold nor more predictable. The Soviet Union, indeed, remained re

markably congealed, with no change in leadership, no noticeable

change in the mysterious relation of forces in the Kremlin, or in

policy. Leonid Brezhnev passed his 75th birthday, obviously ill, with his puffy face and his wooden walk, but still apparently very much in charge. His long unmoving rule, evidently based on a delicate balance of rival pressures, only intensified the question of

what will happen when the battle for succession breaks into the

open. There was no visible preparation for handing on power, and

therefore no hint of whether the long containment of ambitions will explode with ferocity or just continue containing itself for fear of an explosion. It is known that there are groups, at least in the

middle leadership, who are worried about the lack of any notions of reform and structural modernization, particularly in agricul ture. They complain, privately, that 64 years after the revolution, the Soviet superpower is less able than ever to feed itself. Brezhnev aired some of these concerns himself in a speech to the Central

Committee, noting the failings of Soviet agriculture and admitting they can no longer be blamed on bad luck and bad weather alone.

But what all this might presage is sheerest guesswork. Meanwhile, the Soviet leader continued to show keen interest

in renewing exchanges with the United States and in meeting President Reagan, although in harsher, less inviting terms than



568 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

early in the year. West German officials said that a comparison of

transcripts showed Mr. Brezhnev using the same angry, impatient

phrases in private conversation about Mr. Reagan in the second

half of 1981 that he had used about President Carter in 1980.

The problem of food supplies had become general throughout the Eastern bloc, with Hungary and Bulgaria the relative suc

cesses. Bread, sugar and oil rationing had to be imposed in

Romania, and there were reports that its dynastic ruler Nicolae

Ceausescu was stoned during visits to mining areas. Before the

Polish crisis came to a climax and while peace demonstrations

were sprouting all over Western Europe, the Romanian leadership

organized a huge, unusual anti-nuclear march of its own in

Bucharest. The illusion of making common cause with Western

protestors did not last long, however. After the Polish coup, lines

were more tightly drawn again. Czechoslovakia was in a state of

tangible decline. A flourishing black market became crucial to

reasonable distribution in the cities. A leader was reported to have

declared sarcastically that border signs should read: "Welcome to

Czechoslovakia, an industrial museum." Apocryphal or not, the

point was confirmed in aging factories and drooping productivity. East Germany remained the most effective economy. But it de

pended on the enormous advantages of its large trade with West

Germany and the special arrangements which give it almost equal access to the Common Market, without any of the responsibilities of membership.

It was lack of food and overall economic wastage which pro voked the Polish crisis in the summer of 1980. The spontaneous creation of the union, Solidarity, which amassed a membership of

ten million almost overnight, totally changed the situation in

Poland and sent muted but piercing signals through the bloc. The

ruling Communist Party, bewildered and yet aware that new

attempts at repression against such massive resistance could only

bring disaster, temporized and seesawed. It was never ready to

accept what at first were modest Solidarity demands. But, as it

conceded one after the other under threat of total national paral

ysis, the workers' disgust and audacity mounted. In December of

1980, Soviet troops mobilized ominously. The Poles refused to be

cowed. It was the Russians who backed down, though we may never know whether they were really on the brink of direct

occupation as in Afghanistan in 1979 and Czechoslovakia in 1968

or had only hoped to intimidate.

Through most of 1981, the question of Soviet intentions toward

Poland remained perilously unclear. It seemed that Moscow had




finally decided to let Poland stew in its own juice until its people grew tired of defiance, but no one could be sure. In any event,

Moscow appeared to welcome the continued flow of Western aid and credit which kept Poland limping on its tightrope and made no objection when Poland, following Hungary by special Come con agreement, applied to join the International Monetary Fund

with all the openings to the West which that implies. Arguments, strikes, negotiations, and further deterioration of

the economy went on all year. After an inconclusive Party Con

gress in July, which had been anticipated with excitement as the moment when renewal and reform would be launched, the new First Secretary, Stanislaw Kania, was ousted and replaced by his Premier and Defense Minister, Wojciech Jaruzelski. The resort to an army leader reflected how far the Party's authority had col

lapsed. A strange triad of Party (government), Union and Church

(the revered Cardinal Wyszynski died and was replaced by the

relatively unknown Monsignor Joseph Glemp) emerged at the head of the nation, though how far they could be said to rule was

something else. No governing communist party had ever submit ted to such a division of control; no communist country had ever lived under such peculiar conditions of individual freedom (se cured quite simply by assertion) and national constraint (secured by geography).

It came to an end on December 13. There were massive arrests,

including almost all the Solidarity leadership conveniently gath ered in a meeting hall in Gdansk, and proclamation of martial law with suspension of all civil rights. The security police, never

dismantled though scarcely functioning during the period of

struggle, and the army took control. Reportedly, General Jaruz elski, who was already First Secretary, Prime Minister and Defense

Minister, had received an ultimatum that the Soviet armed forces would move if the Poles did not. The traditional nationalism of

the army at first gave an ambiguous aura to the new Military Council of National Salvation which he established. It was the first time that military authority had been erected above Com

munist Party authority in a communist-ruled country. But, grad

ually, resistance developed, and it appeared that the old com munist structures were to be reestablished, with some changes of

personnel. The regime announced ominously that it "would not retreat because it had nowhere to retreat to," and that was

blazingly clear. The Union was decapitated and could not con

ceivably become a willing partner in reviving the economy. The

Church, at first hesitant before what seemed a danger of civil war,



570 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

slid back into its millennial role of embodying Poland's national

aspirations and seemed to be taking the long view. The people mourned, mostly in silence, here and there in desperate anger which could still ignite violence.

In the circumstances, any hope of economic recovery appeared to recede further and further. Jaruzelski's base, perhaps even in the army, was precarious, and overt Soviet action remained an

imminent threat. There was little likelihood that Western state and private banks would continue to pour funds down a Polish drain which had already consumed $27 billion in debt. But the idea of proclaiming default was equally unsettling. In any case,

Poland probably marked a watershed in East-West economic

relations, bringing a more severe look at other hopeless debtors, such as Czechoslovakia and Romania, and setting a long-term caveat against more loans to state-run economies with so little

prospect of repayment. Ironically, the Soviet Union was in a better position because of its high-priced oil and gas exports. But it presumably would have to bear much more of the burden of

sustaining production in Poland, and it was unclear to what extent Moscow might accept some responsibility for Polish debts in order to protect its own and Soviet-bloc credit.

The most profound blow was to hopes, both East and West, that somehow gradual reform of communist societies could de

velop to ease their cumulative pressures. Italy's Communist leader Enrico Berlinguer spoke out most explicitly, saying it was no

longer possible to look to the East. Uncertainties about just what was happening in Poland, with internal as well as foreign com munications cut, and what the end of the crisis would bring made

it difficult to draw the likely historical consequences. But it was

already clear that they would have the greatest importance to the future of the whole communist movement and to the search for East-West equilibrium.

VI

The outlook is uncertain and dangerous on both sides of Europe. But alarm bells are ringing loudly in the West now, and that may be the most encouraging sign. There is a wide understanding, developed over the year, that the trouble isn't a grippe best left to cure itself. Thoughtful people were beginning to reexamine basics and look for new policy proposals. My own view is not that policy has many different ways, but that the facts of the world have

changed and the ideas which served so well in the postwar period have to be adapted to new circumstances.




First, because it is the focus of dissension and the source of

greatest fear, is defense policy, nato doctrine has relied on nuclear

superiority to balance conventional weakness and thus to deter war. It worked very well. But there is no longer nuclear superiority. The atomic arsenal has changed its meaning. It no longer guar antees security but it could bring about apocalypse. Enlarging it adds no defense that couldn't be far better achieved by mutual reductions. Instead of being well equipped for a quick response to a massive Soviet attack, what the Alliance now needs is assurance

of time to expose the adversary to weaknesses behind its own lines and force it to share in the awesome decisions of escalation. That

means serious new attention to conventional defense. Europeans who have always resisted the cost may think differently when they realize it would downgrade the nuclear substitute and raise the nuclear threshold. France's Fran?ois de Rose has suggested a new

integrated doctrine that would not only permit sharp reduction of atomic weaponry in Europe (and, in truth, in the United States as well) but remove the dread obligation of having to initiate a nuclear exchange or accept defeat. Doctrine revised to actual

circumstance could provide a coherent, and therefore credible, arms procurement and manpower policy, now

lacking. The Europeans have become set in the habit of objecting when

the United States has failed to set an Alliance line and objecting when it insisted on compliance. They greatly underestimate the influence they could have in Washington if they made constructive

proposals to the common benefit. President Reagan's acceptance not only of Euromissile negotiations, but his offer to negotiate on the whole nuclear spectrum showed they can help shape U.S.

policy. Second, if the approach to the Middle East cannot be better

harmonized, at least it could be less frenetic and impulsive. The United States needs to be more attentive to the political issues and less fascinated by arms supplies as the way to soothe worried or irritable clients/Max Kohnstamm, former aide to Jean Monnet, has proposed that life problems in all of Palestine and surrounding areas?water, food, energy supplies?should be the way to engage Palestinians and Israelis in talks. This was tried and it failed several times in the past, but the Middle East has changed too.

The Europeans haven't really drawn any advantage, or made any

contribution, with declamations. They could be more supportive of Egypt, which has made peace, and more cooperative with the

United States in developing practical policies. Third, decolonization is over but nonindustrial countries remain



572 FOREIGN AFFAIRS

vital as markets and suppliers to the industrial states, and espe cially to Europe. The new countries' politics are varied and

unpredictable. That shouldn't get in the way of a fruitful devel

opment and trading partnership. Europe will insist on it, and the United States will lose both in terms of strains with the allies and

opportunities in the North-South relationship if it tries to impose political or economic conditions based on ideological preference.

Fourth, a decade after the collapse of Bretton Woods, there is still no

adequate world currency system. The tremendous multi

plication of trade makes reliability of exchange far more necessary, and without it the surge of investment essential to development will be hampered and distorted. Cooperative economics is as essential to the U.S.-European alliance now as the Marshall Plan

was to the success of nato.

Fifth, U.S.-Soviet relations have gone awry and cannot be

mended either by reverting to the cold war or pretending d?tente didn't stumble. This is primordial to the U.S.-European connec tion. A sense of timing has been vital. The new U.S. Administra tion sought a recess while America rearmed and considered its

possibilities. That was a dubious idea, not only because Western

Europe can't wait. There is no way at all to foresee the tilt in Kremlin policies after Brezhnev. But it seems obvious that while Brezhnev has the power to negotiate with the United States and to accept mutual restraints, once he goes his successors will be

preoccupied for some years with their own struggle for power and

scarcely in a position to make any concessions. They could be

tempted, for internal reasons, to be more adventurous.

The problem of dealing with the Soviets was the reason for the Western alliance in the first place. Comfortable coexistence, with

out danger, is not yet possible but confrontation can no longer be

envisaged. Together, the United States and Europe need to recon sider an overall policy toward Moscow, what they can reasonably expect from the Soviets, and what they are prepared to contribute to put the inevitable rivalry on a basis of least possible risk and the best prospects for lowered tension.



America and the World 1981 || Alarm Bells in the West

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